A couple of weeks ago, I packed up my mother’s old sewing machine and sent it to a better home than I had given it for a long time.
My mother bought this machine while she and my dad lived in married student housing. She sewed quilts and curtains and lots and lots of clothes on it. The only picture I’ve ever seen of her pregnant with me, is of her sitting at this machine. I burned my finger on its lightbulb when I was three. I covered it in Paddington and Rainbow Brite stickers. She taught me how to sew on it when I was about nine. There are dings in it where I hit with the scissors, when it jammed and I got angry. This was my mother’s sewing machine for THIRTY YEARS.
Then, a few years ago, she got a better one and asked me if I wanted it, and in the interest of keeping keepsakes, I said yes. I sewed on it a little, but not much, and soon decided that it should find someone who would love it more. So when I read about the untimely demise of BettyCrockerAss’s 1972 Viking Husqvarna, I knew I had my mark. And she took it. And she’ll love it.
Just as good to have the memories as to have the thing, and all that. I’m glad I have this old photograph of it, though. Farewell, fond Husqvarna. You served your first master well.